You Know You Are Loved When A Gryffindor Loves You

20

The honeymoon was wonderful. They were there the fortnight before Easter, the perfect time as it turned out, for Easter is a big celebration in Spain and they got there at just the right time and out before the crowds descended. The weather treated them well and the Art....oh, yes, the Art! They stayed in a fine hotel with a large balcony outside their ornate room that a friend of a friend of Steve’s knew, so it was definitely gay-friendly. They had a bath the size of a small swimming pool in their en-suite and there was a health club in the basement with a huge swimming pool edged in beautiful lines of coloured light.

Their days were spent in pursuit of Art and their nights dining in many different establishments. Harry spent an afternoon in tears in front of the reproduction of Guernica, the original was housed elsewhere, pointing out and explaining it to his husband as he sniffled through tears. Just into their trip they discovered the architect Gaudi and spent time looking at the strange buildings and admiring the Sagrada Familia, the massive cathedral still being built in the old style, taking many years to craft, and the Parc Guell.

They were sitting in the park in an enclosed play area ringed by gaudy mosaic benches that serpentined around the space. Severus couldn’t get comfortable. “Why did he build this bench thing with all these lumps and bumps?”. Harry laughed, “Keep trying. He got all his workmen to sit in the wet plaster in the buff in all sorts of sitting attitudes so you just have to try it out and find the one that suits you. This one is ideal for me, the guy must have been a short-arse. Try the one this side of me”. A perfect fit for the taller man. It was actually more comfortable if they rolled their hips slightly to face each other, leaning on the back of the bench joining their free hands, talking.

That was the tenor of the holiday, they fucked, they ate, they talked, they saw amazing things. They took a day trip up the coast to the north of Barcelona and Harry got to see the Mae West room plus many other exotic and incredible things in the Museo Dali in Figueres. They carried on north to Cadaques where the artist had made his home and took a trip out to Cap de Creus where many of the later works attributed to him involving piled stones of many hues were inspired by the multi-coloured strata of the rocks there. They sat for hours gazing down into the rocky canyons watching the tide come in.

Harry discovered a local delicacy that he couldn’t get enough of, the way the Spanish did anchovies or whitebait, marinaded in olive oil, garlic and pimento, he would savour memories of boccerones forever. He loved tapas, he loved siesta time, he loved that restaurants stayed open later, damn, he loved the whole place.

They took another trip to Monserrat for a day, marvelling at the finger shaped mountains and the beautiful cathedral with an ornate basilica of beaten silver devoted to a black Madonna. As they were about to leave, Harry stilled them as the sound of sweet singing filled the air, the boy choristers rehearsing. They listened and Severus took in the rapt expression on his beloved’s face. He held Harry to him in the car on the long drive back.

On the sunniest day, they took a taxi high into the hills surrounding Barcelona and Harry swooned at seeing the brightly coloured Miro works in the native light at the Miro Fundacion particularly the 3-d pieces. He was a patient teacher, too. Severus would take his time viewing a work by himself then let Harry give his own excitable impressions. He had to admit, Harry’s knowledge of modern Art was pretty prodigious.

“Harry, the next Art trip we go on, can it be....?”, he didn’t get a chance to finish, “Please, Severus, Florence. Quattrocentro, discovery of perspective, gold leaf, pleeease”. Severus was left completely speechless, “But, but...”, he spluttered. Harry silenced him with a kiss. “I told you I’ve been reading my way through your Art library at home and I know you have a passion for Italian Art particularly the Renaissance period. Bring it on. Early Tintorettos, Cimabue altar panels, Leonardo’s drawings, Have you seen them in the flesh? I escaped from the Dursley’s one day and went up to London. I had no money so I hitched. The drawings were on tour at the National Gallery. I spent the whole day there, it took me ages to get home and this fuckwit wanted me to suck him off in exchange for the ride but I’ll never regret seeing them, the helicopter was invented in the friggin’ fifteenth century but it took us until the twentieth to really figure it out”.

This whirled past his bemused spouse, “Yes, I want to visit Florence for exactly the reasons you state, but sucking a guy off for a lift? I’m horrified”. Harry grinned, “Oh, no, I had my wand with me. He pulled his dick out and I reduced it to an inch long. I threatened him with turning it into a vagina if he didn’t put it away right now. He dropped me at the end of my street without another word. He’d driven nearly forty miles out of his way to do so”.

Severus knew that this was told as an anecdote, a funny little story, but it just was another brick in the wall of horror that surrounded his husband. He had a vision of Harry in this man’s car, his mind soaring on beauty making light of the thuggish Mundane reality and was instantly humbled. This wasn’t an arrogant Harry, this was a Harry trying to stop himself from being raped. He cautiously asked, “How old were you, you know, when you saw the drawings?” Harry shrugged, “At the end of third year, so I was nearly fourteen, but I’ve remembered the power of them ever since..”, his voice tailed off into a dreamy smile, but Severus was appalled.

Thirteen, he was fucking thirteen and he’s having to fight off perverts just because he cannot resist beauty and is impelled to seek it out. It was a ride home he needed, a family man to gently admonish him, “I don’t normally give lifts but I’ve a son/daughter your age and I don’t like to think of someone your age getting into trouble”, then see him to his front door and watch as the light of the house welcomes him in, make sure that the child is safe before driving away, his job done, an errant child seen home safely, just like the school run.

He could feel tears threaten on the walk back down the hill into town, then sank down onto a large flat rock that bordered the road and burst out crying. Harry pushed his husband’s knees apart and knelt on the tarmac between them. He held his husband’s face as he cried, “Come on, Severus, what’s the matter? I told you, I saw him off. I mean. fuck, by then I had defeated Voldemort twice, I could handle some kiddie perv with designs on my body. It really wasn’t a problem. I’d seen off a troll and a basilisk by then, not to mention ridden a Hippogriff, you know, (shrug) I can handle myself”.

Severus was incoherent as he held his Harry, “I know you can, but somehow at that age you shouldn’t have been able to. Did you never know innocence? I don’t necessarily mean sexual innocence but just plain childish innocence? You are streetwise beyond your years”. Harry kneeled up and held his beloved, “No, Severus. Innocence was never a big part of my life. I could make tea from six, I had to cook for the Dursleys at eight. They wouldn’t have given a shit if I was raped or injured, their tea was still expected on the table at seven sharp when Vernon got home from work and woe betide me if it wasn’t either on the table or nearly ready”.

I weep for everything bad that has ever happened to him. And I have to admit that it is everything bad that I could do nothing to prevent or could have done more to prevent, though I’m proud to have protected him and his friends against Remus. He’s a good man but a vicious wolf. Here I am in this beautiful sunshine and I am married to the person I caused more grief to in all my years of teaching than anyone else. My sorrow knows no bounds. I want to weep until I shrivel, a dry husk, and blow away in the anonymous breeze. Harry tries to soothe but this is beyond salvation. He says nothing and just holds me. I want to kiss his feet but he offers his lush mouth. He murmurs that I am his equal and he is mine, but I know this isn’t true but neither is he lying. He really sees us this way. I hope I am worthy of you, Harry. Worthy of the name Potter, even while I detested your progenitor, I wear your name like a badge over my heart and I dearly hope I can live up to it.

Harry tried to staunch Severus’ unstoppable tears at the side of the road and gave up, holding him until the storm subsided of it’s own accord. Random cars passed up and down the road, swerving around them at speed but neither cared. Severus lifted his red eyes to Harry’s, “Sorry, love, I’m being a bit of a wet blanket”. Harry smiled waterily, “Ssshhh, these are the things we need to work out. I think this is what holidays are for. I know, most think they are about relaxation only, but relaxing leads to a loss of vigilance and when vigilance is lost then truth comes out”.

How old is this boy? Seventeen and a half. He shouldn’t know this stuff, but I think this depth is what attracted me. A depth no-one else could see. A depth that led to his nightmares. A depth that led him to me. I am not without my own deep places. What if I release those? Will it overwhelm him? After the story he told me today, I think not. We are a joined unit now. I think he will have more strength for me than I do for him and I am slightly ashamed of this. It should be me assuaging his fears in the night rather than he comforting mine in the middle of a sunny spring day.

They walked down the long hill, their arms around each other, Severus sniffling from time to time, feeling highly embarrassed until he remembered Harry’s words about truth coming out. Harry got them back to their hotel. The concierge looked most unhappy until Harry assured her that it was nothing to do with their accommodation. He mimed argument then making up and the woman ‘Aaahh’ed in understanding. He had made her believe in a lovers tiff then snagged a ‘do not disturb’ sign off the front desk and winked at the smiling woman as they climbed the stairs to their suite.

Harry threaded his hands into his husband’s hair as the door was kicked shut, “I think someone needs some serious loving” and led them into the bathroom. Harry started the huge bath running and slowly undressed his beloved, kissing all the naked skin as it was revealed, revelling in the smell and taste of his man, the hints of musk and sweetness, the natural ‘Severus’ smell that drove him mad. Open-mouthed tongue kisses to neck and torso, the delicate flick to sensitised nipples that made the dark man rise off the door and clutch wantonly at his Harry. The bath was just right and they sank into the warm water, kissing and desperate and cocks rubbing together in scented wetness, the jar of lube just to hand.

Harry lifted up, turned over, legs spread, “Fuck me, babe, I want you so much”, he invited over one shoulder and Severus grinned. He took his time with the preparation, four fingers inside and the thumb pressed hard against the perineum, fucking him hard hearing the mewls of desire feeling the twitching hips bearing down as he is opened wide. Severus slicked his cock and entered without preamble, an arm clutching Harry to him, the other bearing his weight on the edge of the bath. He moved to loud groans which only intensified as he increased his pace, pushing in, feeling the suction as he withdrew then ploughed his beloved’s depths again and again, altering the angle to make Harry scream and buck with each thrust, ramming his sweet spot. Harry refused all touches to his cock, a favourite ploy to last longer, and he was slowly and luxuriously fucked until his movements became erratic and Severus speeded up and they cried out that they were close, closer, closer still, then Harry rode the raging surf of passion coming in gouts of pearlescent fluid into the water and Severus followed, filling his Harry deeply. They laughed as they came down and Severus eased out of Harry. They sank into the warm water and held and kissed.

When they had control over their bodies once more, they lovingly washed and kissed languishing in the warmth until, by mutual agreement, they climbed out, emptied the tub and dried each other, still holding, still kissing and laughed into each other’s eyes. Severus led them to bed where clean bodies rolled around and kissed even harder, then their cocks joined in, then Harry spread his beloved and took him face to face and they both fucked again, slow, deep, incredibly aroused, gazing into each other’s glazed eyes. Harry picked up the pace and he was slamming into his lover, balls slapping arse, a shout with each thrust told him he was in the right spot then Severus tightened around him on the upthrust and came between them, a few hard fucks and Harry came deep within, cursing softly as he rode the waves of climax to be caught in strong warm arms as he collapsed on Severus’ chest, gasping and replete.

They didn’t manage speech in this afterglow, just holding and kissing and blissing out on each other. It was a proper honeymoon, Harry reflected as he felt sleep tug at his consciousness, Something old, their relationship, something new, their shared passions for Art and Music, something borrowed, the luxurious surroundings they were in, something blue, the reflections both had on their past lives. Harry grinned as he succumbed to Severus’ kisses and sleep; damaged, hurt, defiled, marked, scarred, loving, together, married, pregnant and fucking perfect.